“They were destroyed.”
“Right,” Teller confirmed. “To cut a long story short, we have intel that suggests one may still be in existence. If we get it, it might allow connection or control of a large population of Huahuqui.”
Weinberg rubbed his smooth jaw. “You want to control the Nine Veils army.”
Teller bobbed his head. “Exactly. So, we think the Nazis found it during World War II, but had no idea what it was. We tracked it to Argentina only to find out they probably sold it to the Iranians not long after Alpha Base was started. Apparently, they went to the AFI asking to buy their Nazi hoard.”
The Station Chief frowned. “You sure an orb is among the Nazi stuff?”
“I’m working off a hunch.”
“A hunch? That’s one hell of a hunch, Teller.”
“Everyone else is busy with the stations or trying to find these bastards. I’m working a lead to find anything that can help us beat them.”
There was a long silence. The Station Chief seemed to be regarding Teller with a certain amount of disdain for this foolhardy endeavor. Teller couldn’t blame him. Here he was, traipsing around the world looking for something that may not exist. Meanwhile, KJ and Nikolaj were jetting off to China for God knows what reason, Freya was seething that he wasn’t hot on their trail, and the Earth may soon be plummeted into nuclear winter. If he had been on the receiving end of this story he’d also think the narrator was a damn idiot.
Eventually Weinberg pulled an older-looking cell phone from his pocket and placed it on the table between them.“It’s a burner,” Mike said, nodding to the phone. “Tensions are high right now. The Iranian’s think this power station threat has been orchestrated by the USA to impede their nuclear program.”
“Has it?” Teller asked.
Weinberg’s eyes narrowed, but he ignored the jibe. “Five minutes, that’s it. Keep to the point.”
“Sure,” Teller said.
The phone hummed a few times before a man answered with a simple, “yes?”
“Jester, this is Louis the Fourth,” the Station Chief said.
“Louis the fourth was an idiot,” came the reply. “He fell from his horse.”
“That he did. Jester, we have a friend here from the NSA.”
Teller launched into his questions. “We have intel that 16 or 17 years ago, the Iranian government obtained the whole Argentine stash of Nazi items gained from World War II in exchange for oil. Does that sound right?”
There was a pause, then: “I believe this to be true. Sanctioned by the Head of the Intelligence agency. But it yielded no results.”
“Dammit!” Teller exclaimed. “Do you know what they were looking for?”
“Something important, related to the Jinn.”
Jinn. The word for Huahuqui across the Middle East. While initially the religious world had exploded at the revelation of the Huahuqui, Islam had been able to reconcile the notion of these sentient creatures with their faith. The teachings of the Quran already referred to such beings on Earth before and alongside humans—beings that were faster and stronger; the Jinn. While strictly invisible deities according to their holy book, the ability of the Muslim world to accept these creatures, as not only created by God but also equal to humans, had far exceeded that of the Judeo-Christian community.
Jonathan turned to the Station Chief. “At least we were on the right track.”
Mike nodded, apparently in thought.
“What about the U-boat?” said the voice on the phone.
“U-boat?” Jonathan asked.
“Iranian Intelligence has started using back channels to gain permits under false enterprises to salvage a sunken German U-boat, just off the coast of Denmark.”
“A type XXI to be precise,” Weinberg said. “The most advanced U-boat of its time, but a relic by our standards. Sank with all 58 crewmembers the day after the end of the war. Their mission is unknown, but rumors were rife that it had Nazi gold on board or that high-ranking Nazi officers, including Hitler himself, were on it. All fairy tales.”
“So far, no permits have been provided, but it is possible the Danish government may concede if the right offer was made. This is all I know.”
The call cut off. Weinberg slipped the burner phone into his pocket.
“They’re still looking ...” Teller said. “They didn’t find it in the Argentine stash but went looking for a U-boat.”
Weinberg rose to his feet and buttoned his suit jacket. “As I said, fairy tales.”
“I’ve made a career chasing fairy tales, Mike. More often than not there’s been some truth in them.” Jonathan stood and pushed his chair back, its feet screeching on the floor.
“Going somewhere?”
Teller smirked. “Denmark, Mike. I’m going to Denmark.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Location: Tocayōtla, somewhere in China
Svetlana knelt in her communal dorm, eyes closed, Ribka curled up at her side. Meditation had become harder and harder. Even with her Phalanx family surrounding her, each providing a link in the collective consciousness, she felt alone. Whatever that man, KJ, had done to her, it seemed to be permanent. No amount of shadow boxing, sparring, or introspection seemed to help. His consciousness was now a splinter in her mind, digging its way deeper and causing an infection.
As much as she hated Mother, Svetlana may well need her now. There had been rumors that the woman had perfected a new form of control, derived from her research years earlier. A serum that would render the Phalanx completely susceptible to her command. Svetlana doubted the Doyen had sanctioned it and would never let it be used. He seemed to be enamored with the idea the Phalanx truly believed in his plan.
But, what was his plan? Svetlana and the Phalanx had not been explicitly told. Only that soon the end of the Fifth Sun would come and the righteous, those loyal to the Huahuqui, would survive to set humanity on a new trajectory toward greatness. To ensure such a glorious path, the old ways of thinking— the dogma instilled by governments and institutions who had forgotten the Huahuqui—must be removed from power. She and the Phalanx would be key to this.
A hand slid over her shoulder and Svetlana opened her eyes.
“Nyalku, when did you arrive?” Svetlana said without turning.
“A day or so ago,” he said.
Svetlana shrugged off his hand and rose to her feet. “This isn’t your dorm.”
“I just figured you may need company,” he said, stepping away. “I heard Mother called you out in public again. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“Kóoto'obe 'ku máano'ob tu juun, size'obe' múuch u máano'ob,” Svetlana replied in Mayan.
“Yes, yes I’ve heard it before: the eagle flies alone, while we follow the herd.”
“Then you know to get lost,” Svetlana fired back. “You were the first to jump on my back after... what happened.”
“Yeah,” he said rubbing at his neck. “I was mad. But, it doesn’t matter. The final plan is still on track.”
“And what is that, Nyalku?” Svetlana’s eyes flared.
Nyalku squirmed, his gaze falling away from hers. “To usher in the Sixth Sun,” he said finally. “To rebalance the world, with the Huahuqui in their rightful place.”
“Whatever that means,” Svetlana said.
“You need to get your head straight. Mother is pissed, and it’s at you—again. One of these days she’ll do something bad to you. The Doyen won’t be able to protect you forever.”
Svetlana grabbed Nyalku by his military jacket and slammed him against the wall. Nyalku broke free and shoved her back several paces.
“You really wanna do this?” he fired at her.
“Just stay out of my face, Nyalku, got it?” Svetlana snapped back.
Nyalku’s eyes were glassy, his fear palpable. “It’s not just about you, ‘lana.”
Svetlana stormed past, shoulder barging him as she went.
As much as Nyalku irritated her, he wasn’t wrong. Her head wasn�
�t straight. It had been. For years. She had believed in the Doyen’s words, in his teaching. But now something felt different, the pit of her stomach constantly nagging at her.
Being outside of the place they called home high in the rice terraces had impacted her psyche far more than she could have anticipated. Watching other humans go about their lives, oblivious to the danger around them. Laughing, smiling, loving and fighting without a care in the world. And then, the chance connection in Washington with the man named KJ and his Huahuqui, K’awin. Everything had become... confused... like looking through a prism. The once clean, single truth now fractured into multiple realities and possibilities.
The pressure inside her head was unbearable.
Svetlana peered down the Avenue of the Dead toward the Pyramid of the Moon—Victoria’s abode. It stood alone, just like Mother, tall and proud and strong. Svetlana needed something more, something to take the growing migraine, the doubt, away. Perhaps Mother would take pity on her, offer the drug she’d been working on. Then Svetlana could rest, could rejoin her Phalanx without fear or hesitation. Powering forward, mind made up, Svetlana headed for the Pyramid of the Moon.
Three steps into her stride, Ribka blocked her path. The little Huahuqui stared up at Svetlana, gills billowing and tiny lips smacking together.
“What?” Svetlana snapped, then instantly regretted her outburst.
Ribka nuzzled Svetlana’s boot.
“Don’t worry, you won’t lose me.” Svetlana knelt and rubbed her symbiote’s head. “I’ll still be me, just clearer. I promise.”
Ribka seemed unconvinced, wrapping herself around Svetlana’s legs, preventing her from walking any further
“Daughter, are you well?”
Svetlana froze and rose to her feet, coming face to face with the Doyen.
“Yes, I mean no, I mean ...”
“You are confused, child. I can feel it,” the Doyen said.
Neith, his Huahuqui, warbled and touched snouts with Ribka.
“I have headaches. I just want them to go away, I need clarity. Purpose. I am failing my Phalanx.”
“Is that so? And what clarity do you seek? Perhaps how to pierce the Eighth veil? You have stalled at the seventh for some time.”
Svetlana’s heart beat faster. That wasn’t what she meant. “I want to understand my purpose, our purpose. How killing heads of state will bring about the Sixth Sun and allow the Huahuqui to take their rightful place.” She swallowed, expecting to be reprimanded.
“They are one and the same child,” the Doyen said, breaking into a wise smile. “You have perfected the understanding of mathematics and all the universe has to offer in the form of logic. Now you must understand its—God’s—will. Come.” He waved a robed arm toward the Pyramid of the Sun, his personal sanctuary.
Svetlana walked behind him along the Avenue of the Dead, studying his calm gait and flowing robes. The Doyen had changed over the years. Once a harsh man with hard features who demanded absolute fealty, now seemed softer with older age—wiser and more satisfied in his existence and that his plan would come to fruition. Perhaps he really had pierced the Ninth Veil and knew God’s greater design.
The Doyen nodded to the two guards posted at the large entrance which was carved directly into the stone steps in front of them. Svetlana had only been inside once before. The image of his large wooden desk, replete with a leather chair and sculpture of a gnarled tree, peered out from the recesses of her mind.
They sauntered through the pass-code-locked door and into the main foyer. Svetlana’s eye’s widened. Here in this massive empty expanse inside the structure was a nursery of sorts. At least a hundred pairs of plastic cribs. Each was filled with soft white linens and a fleshy, pink human or murky water and a tiny, translucent Huahuqui. Two women, presumably nurses, flitted from crib to crib, tending to the infants.
The Doyen stopped by a crib, lifted a baby out, and held it to his chest. “Not everyone in the Phalanx are soldiers,” he said softly. “We are rebuilding the world. New life must be born. Life that knows only of the bond with the knowledge bringers. A life untainted by the society we have created. We will create this world for them.”
He handed Svetlana the child. She took it into her arms and studied its wrinkled skin and tiny fingers that grasped at the air, feeling for a connection to something—someone. A lump formed in her throat. She had never seen a newborn before. The idea of babies being born here at the Temple had never crossed her mind.
“Who’s are they?” she asked.
“Members of your brethren. Your Phalanx whose bond was so strong they felt compelled to procreate.”
“Of their own free will?” she pressed.
The Doyen laughed out loud and took the baby from Svetlana. “Of course, child.”
“How did I not feel them, in the hive?”
“They’re shielded in here,” he said, placing the infant back into the crib. “The children and the parents. It would not do to distract everyone.”
Even in here, we hide things from each other, she thought. “Then why tell me?” The question blurted out before Svetlana could contain it.
The Doyen turned and began walking the length of the room toward the secure elevator. “You felt a bond with the boy, Kelly Graham Junior, yes?” he said over his shoulder.
Svetlana’s skin prickled.
“This is divine providence. He is first to be born of a person bonded to a knowledge bringer. The infants you see downstairs are like him. They are... special. With powers beyond even you and the Phalanx. He will be the key to leading them, understanding them. His bond to you will be to our advantage. You will be able to show him our way. Show him what we will achieve and the righteousness of it. This is your destiny.”
Svetlana stopped in her tracks. “You knew. You knew I would meet him.”
The Doyen turned to her. “I did. Your bond as children was always strong. You have been one of my most treasured, Svetlana, full of spirit and understanding. One day I will need you to lead with Kelly Graham Junior at your side. It is God’s will. Shall we?” He motioned to the elevator.
Svetlana cautiously stepped inside, Ribka in tow.
A short ride to the pinnacle of the pyramid, and they had reached the Doyen’s private quarters. Through the sliding doors, Svetlana followed him into the darkened office which formed the entrance to his living space. It was whispered he never slept, but she spied a bed through a half-closed door off to the right and another room off to the left.
The Doyen slipped a hand over her shoulder, making her skin prickle, then he slowly walked behind his desk and took a seat in the large black leather chair. Behind him, just as she remembered, was a sculpture of a gnarled tree.
“You wish to understand how we shall create a world for you and the children.”
Svetlana nodded, Ribka padding nervously at her side.
“Watch,” he said, his deep voice filling the room with such reverence it seemed the walls had been designed to amplify his every word.
The room lights, already low, dimmed further. Then, in a burst of color, the very universe itself was projected from a light in the floor onto the ceiling and every wall. Purple, red, and yellow clouds of dust and white stars slid across the room’s surfaces—some even seemed to pass in front of her very eyes. The imagery slowly swirled and zoomed out.
“This is the greater plan. This is what we have been building toward. It is not my plan. I am simply putting us back on track for what was always inevitable.”
Svetlana surveyed the churning gassy masses and the tiny blue marble that was the Earth. Slowly the holographic imagery shifted and swirled, and an ancient story silently unfolded. Finally, she understood. Finally, it made sense. She looked to the Doyen, who simply smiled back.
“Now, for phase two,” he said.
Location: Lackland Airforce Base, San Antonio, Texas, USA
Lucy’s gaze ambled over the various monitors and rows of elevated control stations, flashing lights
, and keyboards, to the massive wall some fifty feet across and twenty feet high comprised entirely of flexible organic light-emitting diodes. One giant screen that simultaneously displayed surveillance from city cameras all over the world, complex mathematical operations streaming like waterfalls, news station broadcasts, satellite feeds and a plethora of other information. All of it filtered into the NSA’s most secretive cyber warfare unit—the Office of Tailored Access Operations.
TAO's area of operations, as explained to her by Jim Waltham, ranged from counterterrorism to cyber-attacks to good old-fashioned traditional espionage. A unit born of the internet, TAO was touted as being able to ‘get the ungettable’ by acquiring pervasive, persistent access to the entire global network of all known CPUs. Like many such programs before it, including ECHELON that had been hijacked by the Nine Veils seventeen years ago, there was concern over breach of civil liberty. Lucy herself had several times asked for more information on TAO and its ability to infiltrate and even control the lives of ordinary citizens. Now it would seem, this clandestine organization might be their only hope to regain control of the power stations.
The go to plan had been to manually shut down the power plants using a SCRAM—insertion of a large amount of negative reactivity mass into the midst of the fissile material. The majority of stations in the western world had these—neutron-absorbing control rods or a neutron poison—connected to some emergency system which responded to a break in the electrical power. The problem was, the hackers had put in a failsafe. It seemed as soon as SCRAM use was attempted the stations would blow.
Lucy pulled at her face and paced some more. Back and forth, eyeing the highly trained personnel as they diligently worked in near silence on their small portion of the problem. Impatience growing, Lucy approached a woman at one of the terminals. Her name was Caroline, if memory served. This woman was responsible for attempting to ascertain if there was a timer built into the hack—would the stations explode automatically or would they be manually triggered?
“Anything?” Lucy asked.
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